


Crescendo

by little_murmaider



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Bantering and Boning, Fantasies about Blood, Hair Pulling, In Media Res, Just two bros who bone, M/M, Porn Without Plot, This is just porn everybody be cool, unexpected tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 00:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20023321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_murmaider/pseuds/little_murmaider
Summary: We got so familiar.





	Crescendo

Skwisgaar snapped his head back with a frustrated whinny. “Does I _looks_ likes a lady to you?”  
  
Nathan pushed the blond hair out of his eyes, glued to a clump by sweat.  
  
“Wells?”  
  
Nathan smirked.  
  
“I mean, you’re kinda putting the ball on the tee for me.”  
  
“Ja, well I _ain’ts_ , so quit—“ he bucked backwards, sinking Nathan so deep he blacked out “— _fucking_ mes like I ams.”  
  
It took Nathan a moment to come back into himself, to match Skwisgaar’s rhythm beat for beat. But his pace soon slowed, then stopped completely. Skwisgaar lowered his head to look at Nathan upside down, his face filled the space between his outstretched arm and his naked torso.  
  
“Can you do something for me?”  
  
He adjusted, flexing his fingers on Nathan’s sheets.  
  
“I feels like I’s already doing a lots.”  
  
“Can you be meaner?”  
  
“Meaner hows?”  
  
Nathan drummed his fingers nervously on the wedge of Skwisgaar’s hip.  
  
“I don’t know, say I’m stupid, call me names, that kinda thing.”  
  
He pushed himself off the bed and craned his neck back, voice low and velvety as his lips grazed Nathan’s earlobe.  
  
“ _Does I has to does everyt’ings myself, you brainless aminal_?"  
  
“Shut _UP,_ you–!” he hesitated. “Can I call you a slut?”  
  
“Sure, man, I don’ts cares.” He answered in the flat, unbothered affect he always used. Easy. Casual. As if Nathan had just asked him to pass the salt.  
  
Wrapping Skwisgaar’s hair around his fist he _yanked_ , his chest colliding into Skwisgaar’s chest.  
  
“ _How about you shut the fuck up,_ ** _slut_** _._ ”   
  
“ ** _How abouts you makes mes?_** ”  
  
The challenge ignited a fire in him, the competitive streak that launched him to the All County Football list two years in a row distorted and amplified by arousal. He thrust harder, deeper, panting a jagged growl. Skwisgaar’s hair was soft and elasticy in his grip. He wanted the find the spot, the one he’d found once or twice before, that slammed him into a putty. The one that made him pliable. The one that made him meek.   
  
“Christ, I gots it harder when Judith pegged mes last weeks, and she gots osteoporosisssssSSSSSSSsssss ** _nnnnnnnggggggghhhhhhhhhh_** ….”  
  
Found it.  
  
A visible shudder rolled down Skwisgaar’s spine. His arms buckled, body halving onto the bed, and he buried his face in his piled forearms.  
  
Nathan chuckled.  
  
“You’re real quiet now, huh.”  
  
A muffled groan.  
  
“You asked mes….to be meaners….”  
  
Snaking his arm beneath Skwisgaar’s heaving chest he hefted him up, keeping him balanced with one hand coiled around his throat. Skwisgaar’s head flopped back, eyelids fluttering. The skin between his collarbone and the base of his neck was white as milk. Soft. Smooth. Unmarred.   
  
He wanted to bite him.  
  
“I want to bite you.”  
  
“Do’s it,” he sighed.  
  
As Nathan sunk his teeth in, he imagined hitting an artery, blood gushing out in a wild stream, Skwisgaar’s body going limp and lifeless in his arms as the hot rush poured down Nathan’s gullet, choked him, drowned him, their corpses caked in the dried, flaking remains when their bodies were at last discovered days later. He finished with a grunt.  
  
When Skwisgaar finished his knees went out. Nathan, still dizzy, held him steady, pulled out and pulled him onto the bed. They laid side by side, limbs floppy and entangled. A bright red, irregular ring took shape just below Skwisgaar’s shoulder. Nathan touched the spot with the ends of his fingers. They came away wet.  
  
“Broke the skin. Brutal.”  
  
“Hughn.”  
  
A pang of guilt knocked in Nathan’s guts as the bite worsened. He shifted, lowered his mouth to the place. The coppery taste stung his tongue.  
  
“Nghh.”  
  
He pressed his numb lips to the spot, still warm. Came up for air and came back down on another place, his neck. Again, his collarbone. Again, his jaw.  
  
Skwisgaar’s hips twitched.   
  
“You still got more in the tank?” Nathan chuckled. “You really _are_ a slut.”  
  
Tenderness was not something they often traded in. But one of the benefits of finding That Spot was Skwisgaar was powerless to stop him. Again. His Adam’s apple.  
  
“I love yous.”  
  
He stopped.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I saids dat was fines.”  
  
It was spoken over his head, in the same cadence, with the same energy, but with his mouth on Skwisgaar’s throat Nathan felt the tremor of his vocal chords, humming like an electrical transformer on verge of explosion.  
  
He shifted once more, let his cheek rest on the place where he’d left his mark.  
  
“I think,” he said after a long silence, “that was fine. Too.”  
  
Skwisgaar’s exhale stirred the short wiry hairs near Nathan’s roots.  
  
“You get what I’m saying?”  
  
“Ja, Nathan.”  
  
“I’m saying I lo—“  
  
Skwisgaar kissed him, slow, gentle, hands knotted in his hair, and then he was beneath him and they began again as they never had before, familiar, but new.


End file.
